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I Forgot What I Was Going to Say

It always starts with something simple, like a band shirt. The straw that broke the camel’s back might just have been a band shirt.(photo cred phrases.org.uk)

Your day is rolling along and then suddenly someone who shall remain nameless can’t find his band shirt. So the twenty minutes you spend finding said shirt in the laundry basket of a sibling (“I looked everywhere, Mom. Everywhere.) put you twenty minutes behind.

The rest of the day.

I know I’m preaching to the parents out there, and probably especially the Mamas-we are the Keepers of the Where. We Mamas keep a running mental list of where everything our family may ever need is located, and constantly update our database when we see these things moved to new places. My conservative estimate is that I answer the “Do you know where my __________ is?” question seven bijillion times over the course of a twenty-four hour period.

I actually had a phone conversation with a kid in my house that went like this:

Nameless Kid: Do you know where my vitamins are?

Me: Go to the kitchen, open the cabinet where we keep the vitamins, and reach out your hand.

Nameless Kid: I can’t find them. All I see are some kids’ chewable vitamins.

Me: Those are yours! Take one.

Nameless Kid: But I can’t find them.

Me: Click. (dial tone)

It’s always the little things that throw off my Mama schedule: the last minute Stealth Pooper leaving me a present because he still refuses to get on the Potty Train; arriving somewhere as a family without noticing one of us wasn’t wearing pants; a forgotten four dozen cookies for a bake sale in ten minutes. There are too many moving parts in this family to try and turn this ship on a dime.

Sometimes–and please tell me I’m not the only one–I just want to throw my hands up and say, “Find your own crap!” Followed by stomping off to take a bath where no one disturbs me for more than seven consecutive seconds to solve The Mystery of the Missing Gym Bag.

But I (usually) don’t do this. I get out my Nancy Drew notebook, start questioning the Person of Interest, and usually proceed to solve the case. Being The Keeper of the Where is no easy task. It takes up miles of space in my already over-crowded brain, scootching out important information like calling my kids their own names instead of their siblings’, remembering why I went into a room in the first place or, well, I already forgot what the last thing was because I just found a tv remote in the pantry.(photo cred some e-cards)

I wonder if God is ever like, Just reach out your hand, it’s right there. Whatever it is I think I need or have been searching for, I know I must get so wrapped up in my little schedule and all I think I need to accomplish that I miss what he has for me that is right in front of my face. It saddens me to think how many times I’ve stared blessing or opportunity or love or peace or grace right in the face and just not seen it.

Oh, how grateful I am that he doesn’t hang up on me when I can’t find what I’m looking for. But I’ve looked everywhere, Lord. I just can’t seem to find that peace that passes all understanding. I can’t see that blessing hidden in plain sight in these trials. I don’t know where I’ve put my JOY.(photo cred silhouetteonlinestore.com)

During this season of constant motion and wrapping paper and excess sugar and Christmas crazy, let me find what you would have me see, Jesus. Let me look with your heart to lend a hand or a prayer; to offer hope or a hug. Let me see the needs before me and around me, maybe within my own family. And let me experience this season through your eyes, seeing all the JOY and peace you promised so long ago with the birth of a tiny baby.

Welcome and Thanks for Visiting!

Author, speaker, and encourager. Mama of four, wife/battle buddy of Mr. Wonderful. I love Jesus, all things leopard print and adoption.
To contact me about speaking engagements or book signings, please leave a comment on the blog or send me an email at mertbb@yahoo.com. I would love to hear from you!